The Lady, The Melody, and the Word: The Inspirational Story of the First Lady of Gospel

By Shirley Caesar

Shirley describes her family, and their early struggles, the trials and tribulations she went through during the Civil Rights movement, her early singing career, and her callilng to become a pastor and concert performer.

With a combination of music, ministry, and the message in all of her performances, all who hear her know that she listens to God every step of the way.

Shirley introduces each chapter of The Lady, the Melody, and the Word with just that: the melody (lyrics to her inspiring songs) and the word (Scriptures that have inspired her), and along the way she will introduce you to her own inspiring story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: Jun 9, 1998
• ISBN: 9781418559434

Book preview

WORDS FROM MY FAMILY

Out of all of my sisters and brothers, I have always known that there was something special about Shirley.

—Lina Caesar Brown

My sister Shirley not only afforded me the wonderful privilege of traveling and singing with her, but it was through her ministry that I totally surrendered my life to the Lord. I am very proud that she is my sister and my pastor.

—Anne Caesar Price

My baby sister Shirley is blessed not only because she loves the Lord with all her heart, but because she sincerely loves all mankind.

—Julius E. Caesar

By the time Shirley was born, I had already moved away from home, but I would often bring her over to spend the night with me. No one could have told me that my little sister would one day sing for presidents, governors, and heads of state. I am very proud of her.

—Virginia Caesar Reed

I thank God for my sister Shirley’s success. Her singing ministry has been a blessing to our entire family.

—Cleo Caesar

At the age of ten years old, my quartet was the first singing group that Shirley traveled with. After she performed, it was very difficult for us to follow her. God bless you, Baby Sis, you are the greatest.

—LeRoy Caesar

Shirley has richly touched my life in countless ways. Needless to say that I have gained added respect simply by saying she is my sister. I love you.

—Solomon Caesar

I had the privilege of sharing in the early years of Shirley’s life when, at the age of twelve, she sang with Leroy Johnson. Her mom, my sister, always sent me along to be her chaperone.

—Aunt Ida Davis

My dear, dear loving daughter, I have always known that God had a special calling upon your life. I sensed it while you were in my womb, and it was quite evident when you were a toddler. While on earth, I was so godly proud of you. You were the consummate of what a mother desires in a daughter; always putting God first; always loving and respecting me; always wanting to provide for me. Although I am not now with you, as I look from the portals of heaven, I am so pleased with how you have continued to love and serve the Lord with your whole mind, body, and soul. Always remember that our separation is only temporary. Soon we shall be together again throughout all eternity.

—Your Mother from Heaven

SHIRLEY

THELADY,THEMELODY,&THEWORD

THE INSPIRATIONAL STORY OF

THE FIRST LADY OF GOSPEL

MUSIC

CAESAR

with

Carolyn Sanders

Lady_Melody_the_Word_final_0003_001

Copyright © 1998 by Shirley Caesar

All rights reserved. Written permission must be secured from the publisher to use or reproduce any part of this book, except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers.

Unless otherwise noted, the Bible version used in this publication is THE NEW KING JAMES VERSION. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982, 1990, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers.

Scripture quotations noted KJV are from THE KING JAMES VERSION of the Bible.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Caesar, Shirley, 1938–

   The lady, the melody, and the word : the Shirley Caesar story / Shirley Caesar.

      p. cm.

   ISBN 0-7852-7155-4

   1. Caesar, Shirley, 1938– . 2. Gospel musicians—United States— Biography. 3. Christian biography—United States. I. Title.

ML420.C175A3 1998

782.25'4'092—dc21

97–51908

CIP

MN

Printed in the United States of America.

1 2 3 4 5 6 BVG 03 02 01 00 99 98

This book is dedicated to the memory of my beloved mother, Hallie Martin Caesar, whose love gave me my life purpose and direction; my father, Jim Caesar, who left me such a profound musical legacy; my sisters Lucille, Gertrude, and Joyce and my brother Albert who have all gone to be with the Lord. I thank God for allowing their lives to impact mine in such a positive way. I look forward to our reunion in heaven.

I dedicate this book as well to my sister Virginia and my brother Julius, both of whom persistently encouraged me to excel and to be all that I could be; to my brother LeRoy who allowed me to travel and sing with his quartet when I was only ten years old; my sister Lina and my brother Cleo who protected and sheltered me as I was growing up; my brother Solomon who at ten years old was playfully preaching a mock sermon in our backyard and encouraged me to shout the name of Jesus three times (what began as child’s play became very serious, and as a result, that day I received Christ into my life); and my sister Anne who forfeited her own dreams and aspirations to labor in my ministry. She has always been there for me.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

1. Running for Jesus

2. The Foundation for Life

3. Born to Sing

4. I Remember Mama

5. On the Road with the Caravans

6. On My Own

7. Forgive and Forget

8. First Lady

9. Wait on the Lord

10. Returning to My Roots

11. Ministry to the World

12. Ministry as a Pastor

13. We’re Going to Have Church

14. Witness for the Lord

Appendix: Discography

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

———THE Scripture says in Jeremiah 1:5: Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations (KJV).

There is no greater honor that you can have bestowed upon you than to be chosen and annointed by God as a vessel to minister His Word to His people. My life is one of divine destiny and purpose. Every road that I have traveled, every success and failure that I have experienced, and every person who has entered my life has been ordained by God. Nothing happens by chance, it is all according to God’s timing. It never ceases to amaze me how the Lord will place people in your life just when you need them the most.

There are few key people I would like to acknowledge, whom the Lord has placed in my life to not only help from the framework for this book, but also to assist me in fulfilling the purpose to which I have been called.

To my wonderful husband, Bishop Harold Ivory Williams, whom I love very much. Thank you for being my constant source of strength, inspiration, and encouragement.

To the Caesar Singers, past and present, thank you for sticking by me through the good times and the bad times, traveling with me across the length and breadth of this country proclaiming the gospel of good news to countless thousands of souls. Great shall be your reward in heaven.

To my church family, Mount Calvary Word of Faith Church, thank you for allowing me to be your pastor. I promise I will never make you ashamed. I love you!

To Word Records, Gospel Division—namely Roland Lundy, Chuck Myricks, Skip Barrett, Marvie Wright, and Bill Lee—I appreciate each of you standing by me and supporting my ministry.

To Dr. Deborah Graham and Dr. Brooksie Harrington, thank you for your invaluable input.

To Angel Wiley, a very special god-daughter, thank you for the many hours you spent assisting in the editing of the final manuscript. I love you!

To Corey Bizzell, thank you for picking up the slack and working long and diligently in the office while Carolyn and I burned the midnight oil writing this book. I appreciate your hard work.

To Michael Mathis, a dedicated and faithful friend. You are such an annointed prolific musician and songwriter. You always come through when I need you the most. Thank you for the use of your lyrics on some of the introductions to the chapters of this book.

To my manager and friend, Carolyn Sanders, as Joshua was to Moses, so you are to me. Thank you for being my right hand. We make an awesome team. I am convinced that whatever we set our minds to do, by the annointing of the Holy Spirit, we can do it.

CHAPTER ONE

Running for Jesus

THE MELODY

Don’t look to the left, neither look to the right

look straight ahead, keep yours eyes on Christ,

all that glitters, it just ain’t gold,

don’t let nobody cause you to lose your soul.

The Lord will help you to keep on moving on.

Move on up a little higher, get all excited get on fire

there’s no time for you to stop,

keep on reaching until you reach the top.

The Lord will help you to keep moving on.

—Keep on Moving

AND THE WORD

In You, O LORD, I put my trust;

Let me never be ashamed;

Deliver me in Your righteousness.

Bow down Your ear to me,

Deliver me speedily;

Be my rock of refuge,

A fortress of defense to save me.

—Psalm 31:1–2

———HAVE you ever been in a predicament where you knew your very life was in jeopardy? I mean, a situation or an incident that caused you to see your whole life flash in front of your eyes and made you keenly aware that without divine intervention your days, hours, minutes, even seconds remaining on this earth were limited? A situation quite similar to when a car suddenly pulls out in front of you and there is no way humanly possible to avoid the impending collision? Or when you are a passenger in an airplane that suddenly encounters severe turbulence and begins dipping and diving and without warning drops a hundred feet?

I have had many such experiences in my life where I knew the hand of God was protecting me, but one incident stands out in my mind above all others. I remember it so vividly because I was just a teenager when it occurred. The year was 1954; the United States Supreme Court had just voted to end segregation in the South. I grew up during an era when racism, sexism, and prejudice were very prevalent. When the Supreme Court ruled that this practice was unconstitutional, many people were angry about that decision.

At the time I was already a gospel singer and had been since the age of eight. I had begun traveling locally on weekends to churches in Raleigh, Greensboro, Chapel Hill, Winston-Salem, and other surrounding North and South Carolina cities with either my pastor, Bishop Frizelle Yelverton, my neighbors, Mother Mary Jones and Mother Stella Williams, or Thelma Bumpass and the Royalettes. Quite often my mother would send my Aunt Ida or my brother Cleo to accompany me on these weekend appearances. I was small in stature, very petite, and wore my hair in braids. When I sang they had to stand me either on a box or a table. As a result, people nicknamed me Baby Shirley. On one such occasion after singing at a church in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, a gospel announcer, Leroy Johnson, who was also a gospel singer, was so touched that he invited me to return the following Sunday to sing on his radio program. The response was so phenomenal that Leroy kept inviting me again and again. Eventually we began singing in churches together all across the southern states. We were known as Leroy Johnson and Baby Shirley Caesar.

Early one Saturday, around 3:00 A.M., we were driving down Highway 15, coming from a concert in Tarboro, North Carolina, en route to another one scheduled the next night in Columbia, South Carolina. I was traveling with Leroy Johnson, Reverend and Mrs. Jackson, and another missionary and her seventeen-year-old nephew. The sky was darker than usual. Reverend Jackson was driving the car. He and I had been discussing numerous biblical issues for hours but were unable to agree on very many of them. He felt that since he was older, I should just concede to everything he said. But even as a teenager, I would not, could not, compromise my beliefs. Our discussion kept everyone awake most of the night. Gradually the intensity of our conversation began to decline, and we concluded that we would simply agree to disagree. As we continued down Highway 15, the calmness of the night, along with the humming of the car engine, slowly made everyone drowsy. Reverend Jackson started yawning. I talked to him for a few more minutes, but then I started yawning also. Reverend Jackson tried to continue driving, but it was obvious that he was getting very sleepy. In the distance, he saw a service station, and he thought this would be the opportune time to fill the car with gas and allow everyone to refresh themselves. As we drove into the station, I was immediately gripped with a feeling of uneasiness. The place was eerie in appearance; it was a dingy, old white building with a rusty sign hanging from the side of it. The driveway was unpaved and filled with muddy potholes. There was only one gas pump in front of this dilapidated building. The place looked sinister, but we had to stop because, even though it was only two miles to the next town, Bennettsville, South Carolina, Reverend Jackson was too exhausted to proceed without refreshing himself. Reverend Jackson turned to the rest of our group and said, Everybody wake up, better go now. Don’t know when we will stop again. Everybody but me stumbled out of the car still half-asleep and walked into the store. I decided to stay in the car and try to take a nap. I thought I would sleep now, so I could help Reverend Jackson stay awake while he was driving later.

An attendant came out and started to fill the tank. Inside the store Leroy (as he told me the story later) was leaning on his crutches drinking a soda. He asked the man how much the soda was, and the man said ten cents. Leroy started to comment that he wasn’t aware that the price of soda had increased from seven to ten cents, but he decided not to say anything and just pay the man.

About that time, a little black girl came into the store, and the white men sitting around playing checkers began teasing her. As they teased her, the men watched Leroy’s reaction. It was obvious they wanted him to say something, but he didn’t.

The young man who was with us walked over to the display counter where Leroy was standing, pointed through the glass, and told the clerk he wanted some peppermint candy. The clerk behind the counter stared at the young man for a second, then with a menacing smirk on his face said, Did I hear you say you wanted some peppermint candy, boy?

Still half asleep he yawningly said, Uh-huh.

The clerk, who was leaning toward the candy, instantly stood upright and said, "Did you say uh-huh to me?" And then he used the n word and slapped the young man so hard that it turned his whole body around.

The young man had not realized that the clerk was trying to initiate a confrontation from the beginning, and by not saying yes, sir, he had given him just the reason he needed to do so.

The clerk then went behind the counter and came up waving a steel hammer and simultaneously yelling to the other white men, Let’s kill them all.

The young man instantly ran out of the store with two of the white men in hot pursuit after him. Leroy, who to this point had just stood and watched, knew it was time to get out of there also. He ran as fast as he could toward the back door. But having only one leg and being on crutches, he was unable to get away. (His leg had been amputated in an accident years prior.) Leroy somehow stumbled to the back door and was about to exit, but an older white man grabbed him and shouted, I’ve got this one. He hit Leroy in the face.

Leroy looked at the man and calmly said, Sir, you know we haven’t done anything wrong. We didn’t start this! We didn’t do anything. The elderly man apologized and reached up and unlatched the screen door. He told Leroy, Watch out for that bottom step; it’s broken. You might fall and hurt yourself. Laughing about it later on, Leroy commented how ironic it was that the man would tell him to be careful of that bottom step after he had just hit him in the mouth.

In the meantime, Reverend Jackson was having major problems at the gas pump. Two men had cornered him and were beating him unmercifully. Blood poured down his face and onto his shirt.

I was lying in the front seat of the car half-asleep. I heard the disturbance and raised up to see what was happening. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Why were those white men beating Reverend Jackson? Where was everybody else? What in the world had transpired from the time they went in the store up to now? I couldn’t figure it out, but I didn’t waste time contemplating it either. I saw one man hit Reverend Jackson in the face and another man pick up an oil drum and crash it down on his back. Reverend Jackson fell down but managed to stagger up again. He swung wildly and somehow succeeded in landing a good blow on one of his attackers. Seeing his friend get hit provoked the man to even more violence. The man with the oil drum hit Reverend Jackson and knocked him down again. But he wouldn’t stay down. He was determined to defend his honor that day. I remember it like it happened yesterday. Reverend Jackson had on a light green shirt, but blood covered the front so completely that the only way to tell the color was to look at the back.

I wanted to help but didn’t know what to do. Instinctively I wanted to run away from there, but my common sense told me we needed to stay together. But then I noticed everyone else was running. Seemingly they knew what I knew: The time for fighting was over. Fighting wouldn’t get us anywhere. If we didn’t get out of there, we would all probably be killed.

I thought for a split second about the police. Where were they? We had seen several during the night as we drove down the highway. Unfortunately for us, we were now on our own.

Not having any other choice, I jumped out of the car, looking around and wondering which way to run and where to hide. Across the highway, I saw Reverend Jackson’s wife, still clutching her white shawl around her shoulders and staring down at a ditch. She seemed frozen there, uncertain whether she should, or could, jump it.

I heard the white men shouting from behind. I cried out to her, Girl, you better jump that ditch. From out of nowhere a soda bottle flew through the air and hit Mrs. Jackson on the hip, knocking her into the ditch.

I turned around, and coming directly toward me were two white men, one with a pitchfork and the other with a garden hoe. I didn’t wait any longer; it was definitely time to run. And run I did. I began to talk to my feet. I said, like Rochester, Feet, don’t fail me now.

I raced away from that awful place. Forrest Gump had nothing on me that morning. I ran faster than I ever thought I could. From behind I heard a car approaching. Fearing that the white men were coming after me, I forced myself to run even faster. When the car caught up with me, I saw that it was Reverend Jackson and Leroy. Somehow the two had escaped the trouble, and seemingly had gotten away. I breathed a sigh of relief that at least they were okay. But then I saw something else. The two white men from the store were in the